A Certain Person We're All Aware Of
by Kiyoshi'sGirl64
Summary: What happens when, unexpectedly, Snape returns to Hogwarts? How will Hermione react to seeing him after her painful breakup with Ron? For Kelsie.
1. Chapter 1

"I see no reason why you shouldn't be allowed to teach transfiguration," Professor McGonagall said, glancing over Hermione's résumé for the nth time. "And I know for a fact you're capable of the magic." She paused then added, "And I know you taught Potter and Weasley spells we never covered in class. Sometimes I wondered if we were teaching them anything or if you were doing all the work."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you, Professor."

"Not a problem," McGonagall replied. "Just be ready for the fall semester."

Hermione stood and nodded. "I will, Professor, I promise."

_Two months later…_

Hermione sat nervously at the head table as the first years were sorted into houses. Just as the last first year was sorted, Hermione realized that the number of teachers at the table was one less than it should have been, as well as missing Madame Pomfrey.

Then Professor McGonagall stood to make the start-of-term speech. Looking out across the students, McGonagall said, "I would like to welcome the first years and welcome back our older students. As always, the Forbidden Forest is off limits to all students, you are expected to be to all classes on time, and no wandering the halls after curfew."

There was some distracted muttering, primarily from the seventh years who still remembered Dumbledore's far more entertaining speech their first year.

But then Professor McGonagall got their attention by saying, "As seems to be an annual occurrence, we also have two new staff appointments. Or rather, we have a new appointment and a _re_appointment."

The curious muttering continued until the students recognized that McGonagall was not going to proceed to introductions until they were quiet. And until introductions were made, they could not eat. When the chatter finally died away, McGonagall went on, "Our new transfiguration teacher, Professor Granger." There was a smattering of polite applause. McGonagall frowned to herself, then said, "And our returning potions master and head of Slytherin House, Professor Snape, is not currently present." After a moment of dead silence, she added, "Enjoy the feast," and she sat down to her food.

Hermione piled food on her plate, but she just picked at it, taking only small bites and glancing furtively at the conspicuously empty seat immediately to her left.

Both shock and happiness were coursing through her veins; he wasn't dead. Why wasn't he dead? All she could really think about was her breakup with Ron and the secret, foolish crush she had always had on Professor Snape, in spite of the insults she had sometimes delivered behind his back.

"Maybe he just won't show up," she murmured, half-hoping it would be true, half-hoping it wouldn't.

Halfway through the dessert, when the din had risen to drown out all other noise, the doors to the Great Hall creaked open, and Snape entered. He approached the head table, McGonagall saw him and she said, "Severus, good, I was beginning to worry they hadn't released you on schedule."

"I'm fine," Snape answered, "As I said I would be. Some dead tissue, but that isn't bad considering the circumstances. It was Poppy who kept me from coming sooner." Sure enough, Madame Pomfrey hurried into the Great Hall, looking frazzled.

McGonagall nodded. "I fear you have missed the main course, Severus, but feel free to eat dessert."

"Thank you, Headmistress," Snape said, slowly sitting in the only remaining chair. He nodded to Hermione. "Miss Granger."

"Professor," she replied weakly, forcing herself to take a bite of the dessert she couldn't taste.

The rest of the meal was finished with a tense silence hovering between the two of them. Neither had been informed that the other would be teaching.

Snape was nearly as nervous as Hermione. He had seen her many times before, had appreciated her skills as a witch even if he did call her an insufferable know-it-all on occasion. But he was seeing her in a new light now. She was a teacher. No longer a student, no longer a child.

He frowned to himself, then stood without eating anything, and left the Great Hall to prepare the dungeon for the irritating first years he was lucky enough to begin the term with. Or rather, the first years who were unfortunate enough to begin the term with him.

Hermione watched him go, slightly relieved and slightly disappointed, but mostly just curious. She could not find an explanation for why Snape was still alive.

The next few weeks were hectic, as the teachers and students all got settled into the routine of classes and meals and extracurricular activities. Hermione was particularly uneasy, especially with her sixth and seventh years who were hardly five years younger than herself.

She preferred the fourth years. Old enough to know the basics, young enough to respect her authority. And after the Goblet of Fire, she had experience teaching fourth years.

But overall she was happy. She liked teaching, and she was good at it. And as long as she was higher than Snape and Binns on the students' list of favorite teachers, she was content.

Except at mealtimes.

There was an informal but habitual and permanent seating arrangement at the teachers' table. And this left her sitting next to the potions master every time their meals coincided. Each time he would nod and say, "Miss Granger."

She would then avert her eyes and reply, "Professor Snape."

Nothing more would be said for the remainder of the uncomfortable meals. Then one of the two would stand, say the other's name again, nod politely, and take their leave. Neither ever admitted—not even to themselves—that they enjoyed, even looked forward to, the tense, shared minutes and the symbolic act of communion.

But one night, Hermione's curiosity overpowered her, and she broke the unspoken agreement. "Professor," she said, "I thought… I thought you were dead."

"Evidently not, Miss Granger," Snape replied, working to sound indifferent.

"Evident _now_," Hermione muttered, avoiding the black eyes that were busy tracing the now-memorized profile of her face. "I was just curious as to _how_."

"You always were too curious, Miss Granger," Snape said. Seeing the insulted look on her face, he continued calmly, "But I don't suppose it will hurt to tell you what happened. It really isn't as exciting as one might think. I was dying. Very, very close to being dead, in fact. So I did the only thing that it was left in my power to do. I used virtually all of my remaining strength to apparate to St. Mungo's. I had been there for nearly five years when they finally consented to my release at the beginning of the semester."

Hermione nodded, but she could find nothing more to say. She didn't look at him again until he stood, said, "Miss Granger," nodded his farewell, and left the Great Hall. She couldn't help but feel grateful to the Healers who had saved him.

She did not see him at all for several days. When she did, there was no greeting. He just said, "How are Potter and Weasley, Miss Granger?"

Hermione flinched back at the thought of Ron and their last, nearly-violent parting. "Harry is fine," she answered.

"And Weasley?" he inquired, not really caring. It was a point of conversation, something to talk about.

"We thought it was the end of the world," Hermione answered, as much to herself as to Snape. "Once the disaster had passed, we were too different for it to work." She looked across the teachers' lounge and fell silent.

Snape's eyes were worried as he watched her. "Are you okay, Miss Granger?"

"Yes," she said quietly. "Professor Snape, I have a favor to ask of you."

"And it is…?" he prompted.

When she looked at him, her eyes were filled with the defiant fire he had always appreciated. There had been a few times he had been sure she was going to walk out of his class. But she never had. She had always just glowered down at her cauldron and made a sample better than any other student in his memory. All she said was, "Quit calling me _Miss Granger_. It makes me feel as though I'm still a student. I am your colleague now, and I would like you to treat me as such."

He looked at her a moment then answered mildly, "Very well, Miss Granger. I cannot refute the fact that we are colleagues, nor that you are no longer a student. But I could ask the same favor of you, that you quit treating me as though I am still your teacher. I will stop calling you _Miss Granger_ when you start calling me _Severus_."

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><p>Well, I only own... no one. As I said in the summary, this is for Kelsie. :) Any reviews will be answered at the bottom of the next chapter. If you want a private response, send me a private message titled with the story and chapter. First non-oneshot HP story, here I come. :D And I've hit 40 stories by the way. The fact that I have no life is now official.<p>

Kiyoshi'sGirl64


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione stared at Snape for a long time. Then she stood and left the teachers' lounge without saying goodbye.

He stared after her, frowning. He didn't understand why he had asked her to call him Severus. Part of him still saw her as the silly little girl answering Potter's questions for him and helping Longbottom fix his abysmal potions.

But another part of him saw her only as the clever, talented witch she was now.

And the latter part of his heart was gaining more and more influence with each day that passed.

Hermione stood outside trying to control her breathing. "It's just a name," she whispered to herself. "Why do you care what he calls you? It's just Snape."

But she knew her reaction wasn't because he refused to call her anything but Miss Granger. She had reacted the way she did because of his request that she call him Severus.

"It's no big deal," she muttered to herself. "Ron. That's all this is. A belated reaction to your breakup. These aren't real. You're just looking for an outlet for these emotions. And after a six-year crush, he's the obvious choice."

Just inside the door of the staff room, Snape was frozen in surprise. He had heard most of her mutterings, but he didn't know what to make of them. He decided to pretend he hadn't heard anything. He left the staff room and, faking surprise, said, "Miss Granger."

"Professor Snape," she replied, avoiding his eyes and not even pretending she wanted to look at him.

"Is something wrong?" he inquired, suddenly aware that her bushy hair had been tamed, somehow. It was still thick, somewhere between curly and wavy, but it wasn't quite so wild. The frizziness was gone, allowing it to highlight the curves and angles of her face. Her hair was no longer her dominant feature, permitting Snape to appreciate the guarded intelligence in her eyes. If she would only look at him.

"No," she replied calmly. "I'm fine."

Snape reached out with one hand, touching her chin and tilting her face upward so he could look into her eyes. "Really?" he asked, part of him hoping she'd admit to him what she'd said to herself only moments ago.

"Yes," she whispered, aware of little more than the pale hand that still lingered at her jaw. Then she turned and fled toward her office. Snape only let his hand fall when her robes had whipped out of sight at the end of the passageway. He only let his hand fall when the burning sensation at the tips of his fingers had vanished.

Then he too abandoned the staff room for his office, grading papers even more harshly than usual, trying to stamp out all the mistakes, on the pages and in his heart.

It was more than a week before Hermione stopped avoiding Snape, before she stopped leaving the head table the moment he took his seat, before she stopped turning red and exiting the great hall without eating when she saw he was already there.

Finally, he grew frustrated and ambushed her in her office. When he appeared in the doorway, she said, "Professor." Then she looked away and said, "I would appreciate it if you would leave. I'm very busy at the moment." She dipped her quill in red ink and began marking up a student's homework.

Snape walked across the room and pulled the quill from her hand, placing it flat on the desk. "It can wait," he told her.

"No," she insisted, moving to retrieve her quill. He stopped her as she said, "The students want to know how they've done."

"No, they don't," Snape contradicted her. "In my experience, in all my years teaching, I have noticed that students don't look forward to getting their work back. Especially when the teacher is a harsh grader. And I hear the students. They complain about your grading policies _almost_ as much as they complain about mine. They don't want to see their grades. I, however, want to know why you've been avoiding me."

When she tried to pick up the eagle feather quill again, Snape's pale fingers snatched it out of her grasp. "Well?" he asked.

She stood to be taller, but she was still looking up as she worked to meet Snape's black eyes. "I haven't been avoiding you."

"Haven't you?"

"Why do you care?" she countered, unwilling to admit it was because she couldn't forget the gentleness with which he had lifted her chin to meet her eyes.

He stared back at her as he debated on how to answer her question. Finally, "Meals are not nearly so… pleasant without you."

"What difference does one frumpy little girl make, Professor?" She put her hands flat on the desk and leaned toward him.

He looked into her eyes, and murmured, "One frumpy little girl makes absolutely no difference to me."

He watched as Hermione's face turned red with embarrassment, then stayed red due to anger. After several moments of watching her get more and more flustered, he added, "But you are no longer a frumpy little girl, Miss Granger."

As he stared at her, Hermione could see sparks flashing in his dark eyes, like lightning across a midnight sky.

Suddenly he blinked, the lightning disappeared, and his eyes returned to their cold, unreadable black. He dropped her quill on her desk, muttered, "Good evening, Miss Granger" and left without another word.

She stared after him a moment, then fell backward into her chair, uncertain of what had just happened.

The next day, Hermione sat down next to Snape at breakfast, and she didn't flinch back when his hand brushed against hers as he reached for the orange juice.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," he said, his voice quiet. "You slept well, I hope?"

"Yes, Professor," she answered. "And you?"

"It has been a long time since I slept through the night, Miss Granger. Last night, though, was particularly restless." He had not been able to forget the unorthodox mix of confusion and understanding, defiance and surrender that had lingered in her eyes.

I'm sorry to hear that," she murmured, surprised to realize that she meant it.

Watching her, he asked, "How are your classes, Miss Granger?"

"The seventh years don't feel I am qualified to teach them," Hermione replied calmly. "They know I was in my sixth year their first year. But it's all well and good. They complain, so I grade them more harshly. If they are taking NEWT level transfiguration, there should not be mistakes in their papers as it is."

"Very true," Snape replied. "Your other classes."

"They aren't too bad," she answered. "Your classes?"

"I hate first years." Snape's answer was quick and sure. Then he gave her a small smile. "And there's a certain know-it-all first year Ravenclaw that brings back memories of another student I had once."

Hermione could feel her face turning red. "Who?"

"I don't think you know her," Snape said. "She had bushy hair and crooked teeth. She knew all the information, but she lacked the ability to apply it to real life situations. The war changed her, though. She's still brilliant but she understands application. She's no longer a frumpy little girl but a beautiful, talented witch." Snape couldn't understand why he was saying these things, or where they were coming from. But he was having trouble stopping himself.

They had both stopped eating. "Are you trying to compliment me, Professor?" she asked quietly.

"What are you talking about, Miss Granger?" Snape asked. "I was simply telling you of one of my old students."

She smiled. "I need to go prepare for my second years, Professor."

He nodded. "Goodbye, then, Miss Granger." As she left the table, he called out, "Miss Granger?" She turned back, and he asked, "Would you join me for a drink at the Three Broomsticks this evening?"

She bit back a smile and nodded.

That evening, they met at the Three Broomsticks. It was a school night, so they ordered nothing stronger than butterbeer.

They spent the evening talking. At first it was trivial, the weather, their students, their classes. From there it gradually got more serious, resulting in a conversation about what they had been doing since the war. The majority of the conversation centered around Hermione, since Snape had spent nearly all of the time in the hospital. Slowly, she told him more and more, even telling him a bit about the fiasco with Ron.

Snape grew silent. Then, after several minutes, he asked, "What is it you are looking for in a man, Miss Granger?"

She looked at him, too bewildered by the question to even think about not answering. "Intelligence, but with a kindness to balance it and keep it from becoming arrogance."

"How did you end up with Weasley?" Snape asked.

"We—Harry had Ginny. We thought it was going to be the end of the world. Ron was there," she replied. But she hesitated before asking, "What do you look for in a woman, Professor?"

"The same," he answered quietly, acutely aware that Hermione fulfilled those requirements, and then some.

"Not beauty, Professor?"

"Beauty…" Snape mused to himself. "Beauty is like extra credit, Miss Granger. It's nice to have it, but it is not the most important thing." His voice seemed to hold a warning, probably to himself. But he had to bite back the opinion that Hermione deserved those bonus points.

She looked away, embarrassed, as she asked, "Do you even know what extra credit is, Professor?"

He smiled, aware that she gave extra credit as frequently as he did. That is to say, never. "Yes, Miss Granger, I do know what extra credit is." He glanced at the clock and, seeing it was past midnight, said, "We should return to the school, Miss Granger."

"I suppose," she replied, the reluctance in her voice only poorly disguised.

They stood and slowly made their way back to the school. Then he walked her back to her room, where they lingered for several moments without saying anything. Finally, he said, "Goodnight, Miss Granger."

She didn't move to open her door, just stared down at the tiled floor. Snape hesitated, then stepped forward, tilted her head up, and leaned in slowly. And, when she didn't object, he gently pressed his lips to hers.

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><p>Well, I suppose I should answer your reviews. But first, thanks to all of you who added this story to either your favorites or your alerts. There has been a stronger response to this story than to any other first chapter I've ever written. *face-palm* Kelsie, I blame you.<p>

TkMomijiOXkisaHiro: First, I'm sorry if I got your name wrong. Second, I'm really glad you enjoyed it.

mkdircks: Thanks. I'm glad you think it looks good enough to continue reading.

notwritten: thanks. It's good to know the story is appreciated. :)

Accio Truth: Thanks for the support. In all honesty, I never would have thought of this pairing in my life (the pairings in the book? no problem. HarryxDraco, I could right that. HermionexSnape, what the ****?) but my friend told me I needed to write it. And, since I have no life, that's what I'm doing.


	3. Chapter 3

Their lips parted slowly, and he stared down into her brown eyes for several seconds before stepping away from her. "I apologize, Miss Granger," he said quietly, his black eyes still holding her brown ones. "I was out of line."

"No," she breathed. "It's fine."

"No," he contradicted, "It's not. I am old enough to be your father. We are colleagues. Such an action is impermissible. I'm old enough to be your father."

"I'm an adult, Professor," she replied. "I'm plenty old enough to make my own decisions."

"No." He shook his head before repeating, "I apologize. Good evening, Miss Granger."

He turned and vanished down the hall. Hermione stared after him until his black robes had swished into the darkness and disappeared. After a moment, she whispered, "Goodnight, Professor," and entered her chambers without another sound.

Over the next few days, Professor McGonagall saw a change in both her Transfiguration teacher and her Potions master. But she could not account for it, as she could never see the two of them together. But the most dramatic change was evident in the whispers she heard in the hall.

She was finding the rumor that now seemed to be fact very difficult to believe, especially considering the students grew quiet whenever a teacher approached. But she had heard enough.

Professor Severus Snape, the least liked teacher in the school, was offering extra credit.

And it worried her that the students obviously didn't want any of the other teachers to know what it was.

Hermione was beginning to notice that many of the students were taking a keener interest in their professors' daily habits than could be considered normal. Several students had taken to tailing her every day, at just a far enough distance that she couldn't overhear their whispers. Finally she called some of them up after class, asking, "Would you care to tell me why you've been following me around lately?"

They shuffled their feet for several moments before a brave Gryffindor girl said, "Professor Snape, Professor Granger."

"What about Professor Snape, Miss Jamison?" she asked.

It was another young boy who finally answered her question, prompted by his growling stomach. "He's offered us all extra credit, Professor."

"To stalk me?" Hermione asked, hiding her surprise that Snape was offering any sort of extra credit.

"No, Professor," a third student objected. "Not you. His assignment was to select one teacher and answer a variety of questions about the teacher. The more questions we answer the more points we get."

Miss Jamison elbowed him. So he added, "But of all the teachers in the school, he's only giving extra credit for one teacher. And he didn't tell us which teacher. And we're only allowed to fill out the questions for one teacher."

Hermione closed her eyes and asked, "Why did you choose to follow me?"

"Some of the questions were very pointed," one of the students answered. "We thought it likely that the teacher he's giving extra credit for is a girl."

"And he speaks with you the most often, Professor," another student put in.

Miss Jamison hesitated a moment then added, "And you're avoiding each other."

Hermione's eyes flashed. "That's quite enough. Go. Don't waste your entire lunch break talking to me."

"But, Professor," one of them objected. "The extra credit is due next time we have Potions. We only have a few questions answered."

"It was a lot harder to get the answers about you than the other teachers," Miss Jamison complained. "But we had to tell Professor Snape who we were going to answer questions about when we took the assignment."

Hermione bit her lip, then thought about what had passed between the two of them several nights before. He had said he knew what extra credit was. And then he had… Hermione could feel her face coloring, but she just cleared her throat and said, "Very well. What are your questions?"

There was a flurry of movement as the students reached into their bags for parchment and quills. Then they read off, "What's your favorite textbook?"

She thought a moment then answered, "_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_."

"Seriously?" one of them asked.

Hermione nodded. "My first year, it was the most challenging subject. Which I enjoyed very much. Professor McGonagall was my teacher."

"Favorite color?"

"Purple."

"Favorite time of day?"

"Morning. Before the rest of the castle has really started moving," she answered.

"Favorite food?"

"Tell him… tell him that he's been sitting next to me for half a semester and if he really cared he'd have it figured out by now," she replied after several moments.

"Professor Granger, I don't think he'll appreciate that," one of the students objected.

She shook her head. "Probably not. But I don't appreciate him sending students to stalk me. Next question, or is that all?"

"No," one of the girls said. "What kind of shampoo do you use?"

She froze. Finally she said, "That is none of his concern. Although he would be wise to try it since—never mind. Next question."

"What form does your boggart take?"

She frowned. It had been a while since she had last tackled a boggart. Finally she said, "It's been a variety of things. When I was in school, it was Professor McGonagall telling me I'd failed all my exams." She laughed to herself. "Later, it was the fear of discovery during the war. By associating myself with Harry, I was committing treason in the eyes of Voldemort." All of her students flinched instinctively, but they said nothing. She ignored it and went on, "But now that I'm out of school and Voldemort is dead, I do not know what it is I fear most." She had a sneaking suspicion that, at the moment, what she feared most was also what part of her most desired.

They hesitated, unsure how to respond to that statement. Finally one of them asked, "First crush?"

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, slightly horrified at the thought of answering such a question. Especially if the answer was going back to Professor Snape.

"First crush…?" the boy asked again, much more hesitantly.

"Boyfriend or crush?" she demanded.

"Actually… they're both on here."

"I'm going to kill him," she muttered, disregarding the fact that her students were present. "Boyfriend, Viktor Krum. Crush…" She couldn't give the real answer. The real answer was that Professor Snape was the first crush she remembered having. "Ron Weasley," she finally answered, unaware that Snape had heard her words in the hall outside the staff room.

The students nodded. "That's all, Professor. Thank you so much."

She nodded. "No problem." She followed them out of the classroom, but when they reached the entrance hall, she did not follow them to the Great Hall. Instead she turned her steps toward the dungeons and Professor Snape's office.

When she knocked on his door, he snapped, "Come in, if you must." He didn't look up when she entered, just saying, "Please hurry with whatever trifling question you have about your homework. I'm quite busy at the moment."

"Busy with what, Professor?" Hermione asked rather harshly. "Reading through the answers to the extra credit questions?"

He heard her voice and was immediately on his feet. "Miss Granger," he said. "I thought you were a student. Forgive me."

"Forgive you for what?" she asked, watching him carefully. "Forgive you for being so rude just now, or forgive you for having students stalk me?"

"Stalk you?" he asked. "I've done no such thing."

She walked toward him and stopped just in front of his desk, looking into the midnight eyes for both an answer to her question and the lightning she had seen before. "Then why have I just been interviewed by several students who are insisting it is extra credit for your class, Professor?"

"They are simply pulling a prank, Miss Granger," Snape answered calmly.

"Really," Hermione said. "Then explain to me why the students who have been following me are from all four houses and a variety of years. Do you expect me to believe that the entire school is conspiring just to pull a prank on me, Professor?"

Snape didn't respond for a long time. Finally he said, "There were questions for every teacher, Miss Granger."

"Your students claimed that only the answers about one teacher would be rewarded," she pointed out.

"Why do you assume you are that teacher, Miss Granger?" Snape countered.

Hermione looked at him and said, "We discussed extra credit, Professor. And then you…" She trailed off. Then she said, "And then you offered extra credit, something you have never done before."

Having heard the words she didn't say, he blinked slowly, watching her and saying nothing. She tried to find his thoughts in his eyes, but they were as foggy and unreadable as one of Trelawney's crystal balls. Then he claimed, "You have been avoiding me, Miss Granger. I thought this might bring you to me. And it worked."

"You have also been avoiding me, Professor," she answered. "As many times as I have entered the Great Hall, seen you and walked out, you have done the same."

Finally he said, "I apologize, Miss Granger. But I didn't think you would be willing to answer the questions if I asked them. You are far more likely to help a student get extra credit in an effort to help them improve their grade, even if the class in question is not yours."

She nodded. "Good afternoon, Professor." She turned and left, stopping outside the dungeon door to gain control of her breathing and her thoughts. She was suddenly hyperaware of how his lips had felt when he kissed her a little more than a week before.

Then she heard him muttering to himself, "Stupid girl. Makes it so difficult. Why must she make it so difficult to suppress these feelings?" Suddenly she could hear him moving toward the door, but she was frozen in place. He stepped out of his office and saw her. His face grew more pale than normal.

She stared at him a moment. She took a deep breath. She stepped forward. She put her hand behind his neck.

And she pulled his head down so their lips could meet once again.

She felt him tense in surprise. But then he was kissing her back, and the world seemed to disappear.

But it came rushing back all too soon, in the form of a sixth year student coming down from lunch to prepare for his Potions lesson.

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><p>A hahahaha. I obviously hate you guys, leaving you with that. I own no one significant. On to reviews. :)<p>

A general shout out of thanks to... dadswell, Gringotts713, notwritten, and animegrlsteph.

mkdircks: of course you detect a beginning of romance between them. which just makes me laugh. :)


	4. Chapter 4

Snape pulled out of the kiss when he heard the gasp, but he didn't look away from the beautiful woman now standing in front of him. He didn't look away even as he threatened, "If you tell anyone, I will find an excuse to give you detention every week for the rest of the year. Now go prepare for class."

The student hurried past them without a word, averting his eyes in an effort not to anger the Potions master any more than he already had.

When he had vanished, they stepped into Snape's office and closed the door. Hermione said, "He's always in detention as it is, Professor. He won't care."

Snape nodded. "But now he can't say I didn't warn him when I give him detention to vent my frustration."

Illogically, Hermione felt hurt. Even standing this close to him, she had trouble believing he had any real feelings for her. "I'm sorry, Professor," she whispered. "I shouldn't have kissed you. I shouldn't have put you in this position. I understand why you've been avoiding me. Just a frumpy little girl, Professor. You regret kissing me, and now I've made everything worse."

She turned to go, holding back tears of hurt and anger. Hurt because his feelings weren't real. Anger at herself for allowing herself to believe they might be.

But Snape caught her hand in his and pulled her back. "Never, Miss Granger. Never say I regret kissing you. I just wish to keep my job personal life separate." He could see the doubt in her tear-filled eyes. So he carefully wiped the salt water away and kissed her again, quickly, gently, sweetly. Then, resting his forehead against hers, he asked, "Do you believe me now, Hermione?"

She closed her eyes, enjoying moment. Her heart was beating hard and fast and, as close as they were standing, she was sure he could feel it. Finally she whispered, "Yes, Severus. I believe you." After several minutes, she said, "I need to go. I have second year Gryffindors and Slytherins. It is not safe to leave them alone." Despite her words, neither of them moved. They simply stood in Snape's office, clutching each other's hands between them, foreheads pressed together.

Without warning, Hermione turned toward the door. Snape did not release her hand until she had walked far enough away that both of their arms were entirely extended. When she reached the door, Snape said, "Miss Granger?" Hermione stopped, her hand on the door. "Will I be seeing you at dinner?"

"Yes, Professor." And she was gone.

Snape took a few seconds compose his face. When he entered the dungeon where his lessons took place, a hush fell over the room that had been buzzing only moments before.

"Walton," Snape said quietly, in a voice that demanded even more complete silence from the room.

"Yes, Professor?" the boy asked, his voice strong despite the fact that he knew what was coming.

"Detention," Snape said. Before the sixth year could ask, Snape added, "For speaking out of turn." Dead silence pervaded the classroom. So Snape snapped at them, "Well, what are you waiting for? You know all we're doing is finishing the potion we started last class period. Get to it!"

Both Snape and Hermione spent the rest of the day anticipating dinner. It had been more than a week since they had dined together, and they both secretly missed it.

As always news travelled fast in Hogwarts. By dinner, it would not have been an exaggeration to say every creature in the castle knew Professors Snape and Granger had been caught snogging in the dungeons. Or so the story went. No one knew how much truth the rumor held, but the hall still grew quiet when Hermione entered, and again with Snape's arrival.

They ignored everyone. They were entirely aware the whole school was watching them furtively, that the whole of the staff was trying to overhear their conversation. So they did their best to act normal, and they were largely successful.

"Miss Granger," Snape said stiffly.

"Professor Snape," she answered, nodding to him as he took his seat.

They spent the rest of the meal in an awkward, reluctant silence. Only a few of the Professors, McGonagall among them, noticed how careful they were not to brush their hands against the other, how close they both seemed to speaking. And, to McGonagall, the space between the two teachers screamed _sexual tension_. She could only conclude that, to some extent, the rumors were true.

Hermione spent most of dinner picking at her food, not really eating. She desperately wanted to discuss the situation. So when Snape left a small piece of parchment on the table, it was all she could do not to snatch it up the moment he was gone. When she read _meet me in my office_, it was all she could do not to jump up and sprint after him.

When she stood, paper clenched in her fist, it was a battle not to run the entire distance from the Great Hall to the dungeons. She looked around carefully before slipping, unseen, down the stairwell that led to Snape's office.

When she knocked on his office door and entered, she found him sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair, resting his chin on interlaced fingers. "I thought you weren't coming, Miss Granger." It saddened her that he had expected her not to come. To Hermione, he was the picture of loneliness.

To Snape, with the flickering glow of the torches across her uncertain face, she was the picture of beauty. "I didn't want anyone to be suspicious, Professor."

He stared at her and, for a moment, she caught a flash of sadness and something akin to hurt in his eyes. "Are you ashamed of me, Miss Granger?"

"What happened to keeping our jobs and personal lives separate?" she asked.

He smiled and, looking into his cold black eyes, Hermione found a warmth she had never seen there before. "Do you think that's still possible, Miss Granger?" he asked her. "The students and the rest of the staff are very much a part of our job. And it would appear that the entire school knows."

"Professor…" Hermione asked, standing in the doorway. "What is there between us?"

"That, Miss Granger," Snape murmured, as much to himself as to her, "is a question I do not know the answer to." Suddenly he laughed.

"What is it, Professor?" she asked.

"You look so awkward and unsure of yourself, Miss Granger."

"How would you have me look, Professor?"

"I would have you look like the confident, talented witch you are, Miss Granger."

"How?" she demanded. "How can I be confident and sure with you there confusing me and driving me absolutely mad?"

Snape sobered almost immediately, unsure what to think of her little outburst. "I don't know, Miss Granger," he answered. "I don't know."

"Then what are we supposed to do, Professor?" Hermione pleaded, her anger gone, the embarrassment and slight panic returned. "We kissed. More than once. Are we just stupid enough to make the same mistake multiple times? Or is something really happening? I don't know what to think anymore, Professor. If I don't know what to think, how am I supposed to know what to do?"

Snape just watched her pace the office, talking with her hands, until she turned on him, eyes questioning and more confused than he had ever seen them. "What is it you want to do, Miss Granger?"

She walked slowly to the chair in front of his desk and sat down. "What?" she asked.

"What is it you want to do, Miss Granger?" Snape repeated. Before she answered, he added, "I'm not asking what you think you should do, or what is expected of you, or what you think will be easiest. I'm asking what is it you _want_, Miss Granger?" He knew it was an unfair question, knew he wouldn't have known how to answer if it had been she who asked. But, at the same moment, the world, the past, the present, the future, all seemed to hang on how she answered this one question.

Hermione sat quietly, searching the recesses of her mind for the answer. What did she want? She wasn't sure, not anymore. When she realized she couldn't find a logical answer, she turned to her heart for one that likely wouldn't make any sense at all. And the answer she found frightened her. But despite her fear, she threw caution to the wind, saying, "I'd like to hide from the world, Professor. I don't do well with rumors. I'd like to lock that door and stay here with you and never come out."

Snape didn't respond, but he had a peculiar, stirring sensation deep within his chest. Something between confusion and excitement and happiness and fear.

"What do you want, Professor?" Hermione questioned.

"I don't know," he answered softly after a pause. "But at the moment, your suggestion is very tempting." He hid a smile behind his hands as he watched her face color. But then she giggled. "Miss Granger?"

"You're so bad at hiding your smile, Professor," Hermione answered. "It's—never mind."

"It's what, Miss Granger?" he asked as the red of her face deepened.

She avoided his eyes as she heard her heart say, "I find it endearing."

A silence so complete it was suffocating settled of the two of them. When the quiet overpowered her and she looked up, she found he was watching her, no longer attempting to hide the slight curve of his lips that had forced its way onto his usually cold face. "Are you telling the truth, Miss Granger?"

She managed to keep herself from looking away. "Yes, Professor."

After several minutes, Snape said, "I have a confession to make, Miss Granger." She just looked at him, saying nothing, waiting. So he finished, "I find every moment we spend together, alone or otherwise, incredibly trying."

Her brow furrowed. She couldn't understand why he was saying this. "Professor?" she asked him.

He closed his eyes, gave another small smile, and laughed under his breath. "You bewilder me, Miss Granger," he admitted. "When I am with you… there is confusion, sadness, joy, excitement… fear."

"Fear, Professor?" Hermione asked when he did not continue.

"Yes, Miss Granger. It has been a long time since I felt this way. I do not wish to be hurt again," Snape answered, green eyes drifting to the surface of his memory, only to re-submerge and be replaced by the golden-brown ones before him now.

She allowed him to gaze absently at her face for nearly a minute before she said, "Professor, you never answered my question."

"Hmmm?" he asked, frowning to himself.

"What is it you want, Professor?" she repeated.

He tilted his head to the side slightly. After several long seconds spent thinking over his answer, he murmured, "Right now, what I want most is to discover if there is any truth in these feelings, Miss Granger."

* * *

><p>Well... I still own no one significant, and I think now would be an ideal time for reviews. :)<p>

animegrlsteph: Of course it's interesting! ALL my stories are interesting! And don't suggest otherwise. Or else.

notwritten: interesting in a good way or a bad way?

paulaa90: Always. I am proud to say I have never not finished a story. And it makes me feel special that you liked this one enough to read a multi-part story. :)

mkdircks: Thanks so much!


	5. Chapter 5

"Feelings, Professor?" Hermione questioned.

Snape nodded. "Yes, Miss Granger. It has been twenty years since I was this… conflicted, emotionally speaking."

"Twenty years?" she asked.

He hesitated then said, "She was killed in the first war, Miss Granger. As a direct result of something I did." Snape briefly contemplated telling her the whole truth, but he then decided that now was not the time. Better to learn if these emotions were real first, rather than complicate things with Lily Potter. Mentioning the mother of one of her best friends may ruin any chance he had with her. He blinked and frowned. Was that what he wanted? A chance with Hermione? Was his fast-beating heart ready for another attempt at love?

"Professor?" Hermione asked, startled by the look of horror on his face. "Are you alright?"

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "I'm fine, Miss Granger. Tired is all." What he couldn't bring himself to tell her was that sudden revelations were often unpleasant. Sudden revelations were also accompanied by a natural, instinctive fear. And Snape could barely admit to himself that his emotions might be the first seedlings of love. He could barely admit to himself that he wanted to give the seedlings sun and warm his heart. He could barely admit these things to himself; there was no way he would be able to admit them to the beautiful woman sitting across from him.

She smiled and stood. "I'll go then, Professor. I have papers to grade anyway."

He nodded. But before she could move, he said, "Perhaps we should behave as friends when in front of the school, Miss Granger."

"And keep anything else between the two of us, between the two of us?" Hermione asked, nervously suggesting that there _was_ something more.

"That sounds like an ideal plan, Miss Granger," Snape said, somehow managing to keep his voice even despite the peculiar floating sensation somewhere between his stomach and his throat. Hermione bit her lip in a failed attempt to hold back a smile. Then she turned and advanced toward the door. "Miss Granger," Snape called. She paused and turned to look at him. "Sleep well," he said.

She smiled. "You as well, Professor."

And strangely, those four words helped him sleep better than he had in years.

The next morning, even under the intense scrutiny of Professor McGonagall, the two managed to make polite conversation, acting as nothing more than colleagues or friends. What they didn't realize was that McGonagall saw through part of their charade. She knew that the potential for something more was there and, surprisingly, she approved. She could see that both professors were happy when they were together.

What she couldn't see was that they weren't hiding from themselves or each other. They were just hiding from the rest of the school. So she grimaced to herself and came to the conclusion that she needed to help this universally beneficial relationship along.

The next morning, students and staff found announcements for a Christmas Ball posted all over the school. It would be held the last evening of term, the day before the Hogwarts Express left for London. Sixth and seventh years and teachers were permitted to bring outside guests, provided they were already members of the magical community.

With the school buzzing about the ball and McGonagall's possible reasoning, McGonagall herself announced to the teachers that they were all required to attend as chaperones. Hermione was successful at not glancing at Snape when the announcement was made; Snape was not. And McGonagall was pleased.

The next day was Saturday. It was a bitterly cold day, but the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin would not be cancelled.

Hermione found herself sitting alone in the teachers' section just as the match began. She was wearing a thick cloak, a hat, gloves and her scarf, but her face still stung with the wind.

"Miss Granger," a voice said behind her.

She jumped in surprise, turning around to say, "Professor Snape."

"Do you care if I sit here, Miss Granger?" he asked, indicating the space next to her.

"Not at all," she answered, trying to reign in her joy and conceal how happy his request made her.

About fifteen minutes into the match, Snape realized Hermione was shivering in spite of her layers of clothing. Glancing around at the other teachers, he hesitated. He then decided that there was nothing wrong with a man lending something to a friend. He pulled off his cloak and gently wrapped it around her shoulders. He said nothing.

She turned to look at him, startled by the gesture. But he had already turned his attention back to the game, in which Slytherin was leading sixty to twenty. After watching him for several moments, she pulled his cloak tighter around herself and said quietly. "Thank you, Professor."

His lips twitched into a smile for a fraction of a second, but that was the only indication that he heard.

Later, she shrugged of the cloak, insisting he take it back. "You're freezing, Professor," she said. "You don't want to catch something and be forced to go to Madame Pomfrey, do you?"

"Anything she would give me, I could make myself," he noted, but he allowed her to place the cloak around his shoulders. She then conjured a jar and filled it with portable flames.

It was several moments before Hermione blushed fuchsia and Snape laughed quietly to himself. Startled, she asked, "What's funny, Professor?"

"Just thinking of another Quidditch match eleven years ago, Miss Granger," Snape answered, still trying not to laugh. "A student set fire to my robes. Judging by your face, you remember as well as I do the last time we were this close in the teachers' section."

"Professor, I—Professor—" Hermione stuttered.

"No, Miss Granger," Snape cut her off. "I know why you did it. I'm just glad we are here again in much more amiable circumstances."

She just nodded and slid slightly closer to him on the bleachers. They sat there for several moments, enjoying the warmth emitted by the fire, as well as the warmth generated by their proximity. Then Snape surreptitiously reached over and grabbed Hermione's hand. "Slytherin wins!" came the exclamation across the stands. But Snape and Hermione seemed oblivious, aware of little beyond their intertwined fingers.

And so the semester continued, through the flurry of homework and secret glances, tests and stolen kisses. And as the semester progressed, the whispering about them in the halls ebbed away, replaced by gossip and excitement about the upcoming ball.

As the dance approached, Hermione and Snape thought more and more about their relationship and how much the school seemed to know, or not know. What seemed to be common knowledge was that they were more than friends. What students couldn't figure out and had given up on guessing about was how much more than friends they were. And Hermione and Snape had no intention of revealing that information.

The day of the dance, Snape spent more time than he thought decent trying to fix his dress robes. He didn't know what he was trying to do with them, or how he expected to fix them after the seventh rearrangement. Neither did he know why cared about impressing anyone. All he really knew was _who_.

Hermione also spent an unprecedented amount of time preparing, the majority of it fighting with her hair. But when she was through, her hair was smoother than it had been in years, her robes fit perfectly accentuating the adult beauty Snape was already having difficulty ignoring each time he saw her.

But no matter how much time they spent dressing up in an effort to impress each other, they spent the first half of the dance avoiding each other. Then, just as Snape approached Hermione to talk, the band decided to play a slow song. But for the first time, he didn't hesitate, didn't agonize over the decision. He just held out his hand and asked, "Would you care to dance, Miss Granger?"

In a flash she was on her feet, nodding and placing her hand in his. Whispers flew violently through the room as he led her onto the floor. The two of them simply grimaced and decided that what others thought didn't matter. Her hands rested around his neck, and his gently held her waist.

Staring into the coal black eyes, Hermione found her lightening. But it wasn't a violent flash; it wasn't strange or frightening or other. It was the familiar, bright white light of the sky during a warm summer storm.

"What are we doing, Professor?" Hermione asked, acutely aware that everyone was watching them. This included the students, the staff and the few outside guess. Even McGonagall's peculiar, seventy-plus year old date named Egbert.

"We," Snape said, "are dancing." Carefully, almost as a question, he added, "We are saying we don't care what the world thinks. You make me happy, Miss Granger. I no longer see any reason to hide that from the rest of the world. I no longer wish to take this happiness for granted."

Hermione smiled. She hadn't been aware of it, but she had been waiting for him to say that. All of it. She had come to the conclusion that her feelings were more than redirected hurt from her breakup. So she stepped forward and rested her head against his shoulder. And they danced.

Out of nowhere she murmured, "I'm going home for Christmas, Professor."

Snape's face fell. He had been looking forward to spending a leisurely holiday with Hermione, with fewer teachers and students present. "What you do on your holiday is your business, Miss Granger."

Hermione didn't look up at him, but Snape could hear her face getting red as her next words spilled from her mouth. "My mum kept asking me if I was seeing anyone. I finally told her sort of to get her to shut up, but then she just started bugging me over and over again to maybe try-and-bring-him-home-for-Christmas-please?" It started out as a statement but then the words came faster and faster, running together into a convoluted mess. And as that happened, it became a question rather than a story, an invitation rather than a statement.

"Miss Granger… are you inviting me over to your house for Christmas?" Snape asked. He felt her nod against his chest. Then he asked, "You want me to meet your parents, Miss Granger?" Another nod, another hesitation, finally, "_Are_ we seeing each other, Miss Granger?"

She didn't answer. And she didn't answer. And she didn't answer. Then just as Snape was about to break the silence, she said, "You said I make you happy, Professor. Well… I'm happy when I'm with you. Isn't that enough?" Hermione could explain the feelings to herself, but they were there. And, as far as she was concerned, they were enough.

Oblivious to the pulsing music that was now entirely wrong for slow dancing, they continued revolving in a slow circle, holding themselves in each other's arms. Snape just said, "Yes, Hermione. That's plenty." She was happy being with him. Nothing else mattered at the moment. Not even the thought of meeting her father. So they danced.

Across the room, McGonagall and her date watched the two teachers. "Young love," McGonagall said, half pleased about what was happening, half worried about what would happen if it didn't work out.

"Young, Minnie?" Egbert snickered. "He doesn't look young to me."

McGonagall fixed her date with a cold stare for a second, then smiled. "They're both young compared to us, Egbert." He cackled and pulled her onto the dance floor. As she followed him, she sighed, "I never should have let them dance."

Snape and Hermione continued on, saying little, content to be close to one another without worrying what the world thought. Even after the band stopped playing and the Great Hall emptied out, they went on dancing, swaying to a music only they could hear.

* * *

><p>Well, it's time to return to that happy little place where I answer reviews! YAY! Thanks to the people who added this to story alertstory favorites and/or me to author alert/favorites. Love you guys. :) And if you're reading this RVDLegsTrish, there was a disney reference in this chapter before you asked. (Anastasia is Disney, right?)

notwritten: I'm glad to hear interesting is good. :) Here's your update.

animegrlsteph: there is so much sweetness and fluff in this story it makes me want to puke. There has got to be a reason I like Kayla so much.

laurawillows: I'm glad there's that anticipation there. :) the thing is, if you look carefully, they already have. Unless you mean call each other by their first names consistently. then I have no idea when that's coming.


	6. Chapter 6

After walking Hermione to her room, Snape returned to his. Locking himself in, he said to himself, "You're old enough to be her father, _Professor_." He mockingly reminded himself of what she still insisted on calling him. Reminded himself of the habit he couldn't seem to break in regards to her name. "_Miss Granger_ is nearly thirty years younger than yourself."

As he prepared for bed, he was suddenly struck by an irrational fear. He had agreed to go home with her for Christmas. He had agreed to meet her parents. He had agreed to meet her _father_.

But he couldn't quite bring himself to regret accepting her invitation. Meeting her parents meant something. It was important to her and therefore held great significance for him. And the feeling of her soft lips against his cheek when she had kissed him goodnight overpowered any misgivings he had about meeting her father.

Hermione was also a wreck alone in her room. He was going to meet her parents. Which was all well and good until she remembered that she hadn't told her mother _who_ she was dating. That the professor she was dating had been a professor when she was a student. That he was at least twice her age.

She couldn't sleep. She tried and failed. It was nearly two in the morning when she slipped out of bed, wrapped herself in her robe and snuck out of her room. As she crept down the passageway that led to Snape's chambers, a voice called out, "Students aren't to be in the corridors past ten." A cool hand gripped her arm and spun her around, saying, "Fifty points from—Miss Granger." Snape looked momentarily flustered then asked, "What are you doing up, Miss Granger?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Professor," Hermione answered evasively.

He scowled before saying, "I couldn't sleep."

She didn't respond, wondering why he would be having so much trouble sleeping.

"Where were you headed, Miss Granger?"

"Where were you headed?" she returned, unwilling to answer.

"I would appreciate it if you would stop avoiding my questions, Miss Granger," Snape murmured, stepping closer to her and taking her hands. "If I answer all your questions and you answer none of mine, that's not very fair."

"Life isn't fair, Professor," she whispered.

"On the contrary, Miss Granger," Snape argued. "All is fair in love and war."

"Professor…" Hermione asked. "Do you mean you—?"

"Yes," he sighed. "I believe I do. I love you, Miss Granger."

She pushed herself onto her toes, kissing him. Dropping back to normal height to be held in his arms, she whispered, "I fantasized about a moment like this for six years, as ridiculous as it was at the time. I've been waiting for this moment for three months. And now that it's here, I don't know what to say, Professor."

Snape hesitated then lifted her face away from his chest so that she was looking at him. "You could call me by my name," he suggest quietly, holding her chin and looking into her eyes. Then he added hesitantly, hopefully, "You could tell me you love me."

She stared up into his dark eyes and saw how earnestly he meant that he loved her and how desperately he wanted her to return that feeling. And that sincerity gave her heart leave to tell him the truth she was still afraid of. "I do love you, Severus."

He stared at her. He had meant his words with all his heart, but he had not expected her to answer in that way. She was young, smart, beautiful. He couldn't offer her anything she couldn't find in another man who was younger, more handsome. "Severus?" she asked. "Is something wrong?"

He let a small grin escape his lips. "No, Hermione. In fact, at the moment, I feel as though all is right in the world."

"Surely that's an exaggeration?" she asked, already searching his pale, shadowed face for an answer.

"No, I don't think so," he replied. "Just because everything isn't right with the world, that doesn't mean it can't _feel_ that way."

Hermione smiled. "I like that, Professor." She yawned.

He chuckled and said, "Let's take a walk."

"Where to, Professor?" she asked, allowing him to turn their footsteps back the way she came.

"Your room, Miss Granger," he answered. "You're exhausted. You need to get some sleep or you'll be tired tomorrow. And I honestly don't think I could stand to meet your parents without your moral support."

"Are you… afraid of them, Professor?" she laughed.

He shook his head. "Just your father."

"You haven't even met him!" Hermione objected.

Snape shook his head again. "I don't need to. When a father and a daughter have a good relationship, the man will go to any lengths to protect his daughter. You like your dad. I'm not stupid."

"Is that how you would be, Professor?" she asked. "If you had a daughter?"

"Could you picture me as a father, Miss Granger?" Snape asked skeptically.

Linking her arm under his, she answered, "Actually, yes. I could. And I think you'd be one of those fathers who spoils his daughter and then scares the living daylights out of any boyfriend who's even brave enough to meet you."

"Would she be dating anyone who didn't go to Hogwarts?" he asked.

"The way you grade, I highly doubt anyone at Hogwarts would be willing to sit down for a heart to heart with her father," Hermione countered. She hesitated, then said, "Do you _want_ kids, Professor?"

"I'm getting a little old to be having kids for the first time, don't you think, Miss Granger?" Snape asked, wondering what she could possibly be thinking.

"How old are you, Professor?" Hermione asked.

"Forty four, Miss Granger." He then decided it was time to turn the conversation away from himself. "Do you want kids, Miss Granger?"

"That depends," she answered, working to sound objective.

"On what?" They had arrived at her chambers, but neither of them moved to open the door.

"A variety of factors," she answered vaguely.

"Such as?"

"Health risks, my job, some others." What she couldn't bring herself to say was that the _who_ was the biggest factor. Hermione did want kids. Sort of. But only if their father was the right person.

He nodded and swung open the door Hermione had left open. "Goodnight, Miss Granger."

"I'm getting a sense of déjà vu, Professor. I feel like we've been through this very recently."

He nodded. "I feel the same way, Miss Granger."

"Does it have to end the same way?" she asked. "Does it have to end with you leaving?"

Snape froze. "But the rest of the school… Minerva…"

"Didn't we decide we didn't care what they think?" Hermione asked. Then, knowing it was manipulative, knowing it was underhanded, knowing he wouldn't be able to tell her no, she asked, "Severus?"

He frowned, revealing that he knew exactly what she was doing. All the same, he said, "Very well." He held the door open and followed her inside. After he closed the door, he hesitantly asked, "Now what?"

She looked at him. "I just want to go to sleep, Professor. I just… I was lonely. You can go back to your room if you really want to. I just… I'm sorry, Professor. I'll see you in the morning."

He shook his head. "No, Miss Granger. I'll stay."

She smiled and pulled him to her bed, where they crawled under the blankets and snuggled together to protect themselves against the cold of December. They were both asleep in seconds.

When he woke the next morning, Snape was temporarily disoriented. But then he saw the woman sleeping next to him. And he couldn't fathom what he had been thinking when he had agreed to spend the night. Yet, all he wanted was to lie next to her and wait for her to wake up. But he couldn't. He glanced around the room. There wasn't a clock in sight. He frowned.

He needed to return to his room to pack, preferably before the rest of the castle woke up. He slipped out of her room, fortunately unnoticed. When he got back to his room, he discovered it was only six. And on the first day of Christmas Holidays, the students and staff would likely be sleeping in until the last possible moment.

He threw his clothes into his trunk and, as he did, he was hit by the horrible realization that he hadn't gotten Hermione anything for Christmas.

When he entered the Great Hall, he found Hermione talking to McGonagall. When he walked up behind her, she turned and smiled brilliantly at him. His heart soared. Then she said, "I was just telling Minerva that you've had a sudden change of holiday plans." His heart sank slightly, but then she smiled again saying, "I need to go finish packing. I'll see you on the train, okay? Mum and Dad want to pick us up at the station."

Snape and McGonagall watched the younger teacher leave the Great Hall. Then McGonagall said, "Severus… a word to the wise…"

"Yes?" he asked, turning to look at her. She couldn't help but note that his normally pale cheeks were very slightly flushed. She took it as a good sign that her warning would be unnecessary.

"If something happens between the two of you and you can no longer work together, I will fire at least one of you," McGonagall warned.

"Did you tell her this as well?" Snape asked.

McGonagall shook her head. "I'm not worried about her. I don't think you will break her heart, Severus. But if you're not careful, she might break yours. And even if you do hurt her, she has an innate ability to act professional. Your professionalism is an… acquired trait."

"I understand, Minerva."

He ate alone, and as he stood to leave, McGonagall called to him, "And Severus, no more stunts like last night. We are an example for the students. We need to behave that way."

Snape nodded, knowing that the house elves had likely learned of the slumber party. "Nothing happened last night, Professor." Nothing of the nature she was suggesting, at the very least. Hermione had told him she loved him. That was most definitely not nothing.

He left the Great Hall, collected his trunk and boarded the Hogwarts Express. There was an announcement that the train was leaving in five minutes and Hermione still wasn't there.

* * *

><p>sorry for the lack of update. :)<p>

animegrlsteph: you have no idea just how much i hate fluff. and consequently how often this story makes me want to puke.

dadswell: thanks. :)

notwritten: glad you're still enjoying it. you keep smiling too. ;)


	7. Chapter 7

Snape began to worry when the train began to move and Hermione still hadn't arrived. But then the compartment door flew open and Hermione stood before him, breathing heavily, her face flushed. "I lost track of time," she said.

Snape just watched her a moment, trying not to laugh. Deciding he didn't trust himself to speak, he stood and helped her lift her trunk into the overhead compartment. "Do you really need this much for two weeks? Don't you still have stuff back home?" he grunted.

"Most of it is gifts for everyone," Hermione replied defensively.

Snape grimaced, once again acutely aware of the fact that he had yet to even think of a gift. Sitting down, he asked hesitantly, "Miss Granger, why was your mother so curious about whether or not you're seeing someone? And why is she so insistent on meeting him? On meeting… me?"

She turned and sat up against the window, her feet in the seat next to her. She didn't really want to talk about Ron, but that was the only real explanation for her mother's actions. And Snape was coming with her for Christmas, despite the fact that it obviously made him uncomfortable. He deserved an answer.

"Four years ago, I moved in with Ron," she finally said. Snape felt a strong pang in his chest, a feeling he immediately associated with James Potter. Jealousy. But he managed to bite back a snide remark, knowing it would likely hurt her more than it would help him. Hermione, looking at her hands rather than his face, didn't notice his agitation. She continued, "It was about six months later that we got in our first real fight. From then on, it was every week, sometimes every other day. And then, one day, we both lost our tempers. A lot of dishes got broken. A lot of curses were flying. We're honestly lucky nothing irreversible happened. But then I left, and I haven't gone back. I guess we should have known it wouldn't work. They say opposites attract… maybe that's true, but after a while you just end up ticking each other off because you're _too_ different." She sighed. "That was more than three years ago. Mum is worried. That's why she wants to meet you."

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger." Snape barely managed to force the lie past his lips. He wasn't really sorry at all. He was angry with Ronald Weasley for hurting her, and perversely happy that the relationship hadn't worked.

Still not looking at him, she asked, "What about your last relationship, Professor? Who was she?"

Snape didn't say anything for a long time. Then Hermione looked up at him, her hazel eyes pleading. He sighed. "I was in love with Lily Evans."

Confusion crossed Hermione's face. To Snape, it seemed like an eternity before Hermione asked the question he least wanted her to ask. "Harry's mother?"

"Yes, Miss Granger."

Faced with the truth, Hermione froze. Then she asked, "Does Harry know?"

"Yes."

"Is that the real reason you always seemed to hate him?"

Snape didn't want to be answering these questions. He feared she would turn away from him or, at the very least, it would ruin their first Christmas together. "Yes, Miss Granger. I was bitter that Lily chose Potter instead of me."

Now Hermione was faced with a choice. She could continue the relationship and risk making the situation impossibly awkward for everyone involved. Or she could end it and save them all the embarrassment.

The problem with the second option was that it would hurt him and make her miserable.

"Oh forget it," she suddenly said. She had made her decision the moment he had first kissed her. Her heart wasn't going to let her change her mind now.

Snape looked startled. But he managed to conceal the hurt on his face. "Miss Granger…" He wasn't nearly so successful in disguising the same emotion in his voice.

She looked at him and frowned, concerned. Then her eyes widened and she sucked in a horrified breath as she realized he thought she meant the relationship wasn't worth it. "Professor," she said, her voice hurried and slightly panicked. "I meant that I'm going to forget how awkward my being with you will make everyone feel. It doesn't matter anymore. I don't care how awkward or embarrassed anyone feels. What makes me happy shouldn't matter. _You_ make me happy." She switched seats so that she was sitting next to him instead of across from him. She squeezed his hand and gave him a quick kiss. "I love you, Professor. End of story."

He responded by pulling the younger teacher into his lap and wrapping her arm around his neck. "No, Miss Granger. Not the end. The beginning."

He kissed her once, and she smiled back before saying, "I always knew you were a hopeless romantic at heart, Professor."

"Is that a bad thing?" He honestly didn't have a clue what she was talking about.

"No. It's cute." He watched her, uncertain how to respond to that statement. Never in his life had everyone even hinted at suggesting he might be cute. She added, "It's cute as long as it's not all the time. And if you ever sing to me, I will kill you."

He laughed quietly. "I'll keep that in mind, Miss Granger."

She turned and pressed her forehead to his, happy to be sharing the moment with him. She was happy she had been able to tell him about Ron. She was happy he had trusted her enough to tell her about Lily. He was relieved that his confession had not scared her away.

At the moment, all she wanted was to stay in the gentle arms of the man she had fallen for in what seemed like only a few days. All he wanted was to keep holding the young woman in his arms, caught in this perfect moment forever so he wouldn't ever have to let go of what was quickly turning into the best thing that ever happened to him.

But when he kissed her, no matter how gently and tenderly he did it, when she kissed back, something took over and neither of them could control it. Neither of them stopped kissing, neither let go of the other, holding on for dear life.

She turned her body toward him more and more, moving until she was straddling him, one hand on his chest, the other tangled in his hair. And his hands were instinctively moving to places part of him felt he had no right to be touching. But Hermione didn't object.

Unfortunately, the plump witch with the food cart slid open the door to the compartment. Before she saw them, she asked, "Can I interest you with some food from—Professors!" She had looked up to see Hermione's robes twisted around her and her hair disheveled. Snape's pale face was slightly flushed and his normally slicked back hair was entirely mussed. They both looked more than a little startled.

The witch hesitated then said, "Sorry for interrupting." The door slid shut again and Snape looked at Hermione, who was still straddling his lap.

Dryly, his face holding no amusement, he said, "She's likely been scarred for life."

Hermione stared at him for several moments, trying to determine if he was being serious or not. But then she couldn't help herself; she began giggling. It wasn't long before Snape began laughing quietly right along with her.

When she gained control of herself, Hermione pulled her trunk out and pulled out some muggle clothes, being careful to conceal the contents of the trunk from Snape. She didn't want him to see his gift. She proceeded to turn away from Snape and pull her robes off. "Miss Granger!" Snape objected as his face colored to a shade of pink it hadn't been in many, many years.

She looked over her should, her face even redder than his. "Professor?"

He turned his eyes toward the window, struggling not to look at her. "Do not do things like that without warning me first, Miss Granger. And for god's sake, don't just stand there! Put your clothes back on!"

She complied, pulling on a t-shirt as she asked, "Does seeing me without a shirt bother you, Professor?"

"No, Miss Granger, which is precisely the problem." Before he could stop himself, he added, "Now is neither the time nor the place."

As she pulled on a pair of form-fitting jeans, Hermione smiled through her embarrassment. She hadn't been thinking when she had decided to change without asking him to leave. She loved him and he had admitted to loving her; she trusted him and, in her mind, there was nothing wrong with undressing in front of him. She wouldn't have guessed he would get that embarrassed. "You need to change too, Professor," she reminded him. Even as she said it, she sat back down, making it obvious that she had no intention of leaving while he changed.

He looked at her, his face blank. "Why are you doing this to me, Miss Granger?"

"Doing what, Professor?" she asked, faking innocence.

"Tormenting me." But he stood and changed, facing away from her as though that would give him some real privacy. He didn't want her to look too closely. He wasn't ashamed of his appearance, precisely, but at the same time he knew that it left much to be desired in the eyes of many women. She was analyzing. His skin was too pale, perhaps, but that was hardly a surprise. She was pleased to see that his muscles were defined beneath his teaching robes and the long sleeved black shirt he now pulled on. Not bulky; built for endurance rather than brute force. She was also forced to the conclusion that he always wore robes at least one size too large; he was not really as thin as his normal clothes made him appear. But then her study session ended as he sat back down, dressed as a muggle. As he looked at her, she couldn't help but think of those muscles and be even more attracted to him than she already was.

She slipped across the space between their seats and sat down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He sighed, gripped her hand gently and said, "I remember a time when doing such a thing would have been utterly incomprehensible to you, Miss Granger."

Hermione was equal to that. "I remember a time when you would have given me detention for suggesting it."

He nodded, staring into space. "We are lucky people change, Miss Granger. We are lucky situations and outlooks change."

She didn't answer, and they lapsed into a silence that said more than words ever could.

They didn't move or speak for close to an hour. Then the train slowed and stopped. They stood, reluctant to leave the moment behind. "I am _not_ ready for this, Miss Granger."

"Why not, Professor?" Hermione asked. "Surely meeting my parents isn't as bad as some of the things you've done in the past, for the war effort."

Snape took a deep breath and said, "You're right, Miss Granger, as usual." The issue was that, at the moment, it didn't feel that way.

He hauled their trunks off the train, stubbornly refusing to let Hermione help him, even with her own trunk. Once off the train, she looked around, eyes searching desperately for a luggage cart. Upon finding one, she pulled it over to where Snape was waiting by the train. He loaded the cart and they waited for their turn to exit platform nine and three quarters.

As they waited, Snape's hands were twitching in a mostly successful effort not to pace, wring his hands and fidget in general. But Hermione still noticed. "Professor, calm down," she implored. "You're making _me_ nervous."

"This is your fault, Miss Granger," he reminded her, looking around in an almost paranoid fashion. He could not remember the last time he had been this nervous. Spying, fighting, potentially dying was nothing. If it ended badly, you died. This on the other hand… if this went badly, he would likely live, but his happiness would not. Snape was learning that issues involving the heart and happiness were far more nerve-wracking than life or death situations.

"How is it my fault?" Hermione demanded a second time, Snape having been too lost in thought to hear her the first time.

"You are the one who invited me," he answered. "And your nervousness and embarrassment somehow gives me the impression that you are entirely innocent and helpless, even though I know this is not the case. And I find this contradiction both bewildering and bewitching." He still hadn't looked at her, staring straight ahead toward the exit, his expression inscrutable.

Hermione, on the other hand, could not take her eyes off him. Her face was covered in something between wonder, love and amusement. "I bewitch you, Professor?"

He closed his eyes and smiled, mostly to himself. "Endlessly, Miss Granger. Endlessly."

They finally stepped into the muggle world. Hermione saw her parents and ran over to them. "Mum, Dad, it's good to see you."

Her mother beamed, hugging her. "You too, Hermione. How's your first year teaching?"

"Wonderful, Mum. Absolutely fantastic." What she didn't mention was that the reason she felt this way had little to do with the job itself. It had more to do with the other teachers. One other teacher to be precise.

But her mother seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "You said you were bringing him home, Hermione. Where is he?"

Hermione glanced around, suddenly aware that Snape hadn't followed her. She caught sight of him, still standing stiffly by the entrance to the magical platform. "I'll be right back," she said. She approached Snape. "Come on."

"Do I have to?" he remarked. His palms were sweating and he had yet to figure out why meeting one muggle man was setting him on edge.

"Yes," she answered. "Now quite being a baby. Let's go." She slid out her want and tapped the cart so she wouldn't have to do more than guide it. Keeping one hand on the trolley to direct it, she grabbed Snape's hand with her free one and pulled him along behind her. He was cursing himself for not thinking to take some sort of calming draught.

When they approached her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Granger just stared. "Good evening," Snape said, relieved to find his voice was working properly.

Neither of them responded. Hermione's smile began to fade. Then her father asked, "Is this a joke, Hermione?"

Hermione frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He's as old as I am, Hermione," her father objected.

A slight pink tinge touched Snape's cheeks. The blush was a combination of embarrassment and anger, as well as fear that Hermione would finally see sense.

But instead he felt her hand tighten around his as she stood up to her father, saying defiantly, "So? I'm of age. What does it matter how old he is? Granddad was sixteen years older than Grandma." Her voice grew steadily louder as she spoke.

"Times have changed," her father said just as loudly.

"Not here," Hermione's mother begged, pulling on the arm of the man next to her. Snape felt the same way.

Hermione ignored her mother. "So what if times have changed. Should I force myself to be unhappy just because _times have changed_?"

Mr. Granger frowned, turned on his heel and walked away, his wife trailing after him.

"Do you still think this was a good idea?" Snape asked her, sounding worried. He was fearful he had just ruined Hermione's Christmas with her family.

But she just laughed. "Calm down, Professor. He'll get over it. It was just a shock. He's actually taking it quite well."

"This is taking it well?"

"His reaction to Viktor was about the same," Hermione answered. "But his reaction to Ron was much worse."

* * *

><p>Sorry it's been so long, as always I own no one, and time for reviews. :)<p>

Dopplegranger: haha, thanks. the fluff in most of this story is almost enough to make my head explode. I think my muse does this on purpose, just to irritate me.

notwritten: Glad you're still following the story. :)

animegrlsteph: well, Hermione is a lot younger than Snape. It's far more likely that she'll decide there's something more she wants, in which case she will leave him. Oh, it felt true when I wrote it, and it feels true now, and it feels so true I don't know how to explain why I think Hermione is more likely to break Snape's heart than the other way around.


	8. Chapter 8

The car ride back to the Grangers' home was very tense. Snape and Hermione sat in the back, Hermione clutching his hand reassuringly, and Snape staring at her father warily. Her mother chattered on, as though trying to make it less awkward by filling the silence.

When they arrived at the house, Hermione's father pulled Snape off to the side. And Snape couldn't help but feel abandoned when Hermione didn't object to being pulled inside by her mother.

Mr. Granger stood before him, quietly observing his daughter's new boyfriend—although he wasn't sure _boy_ was quite the right term. The man before him was close to his age, although how close he was uncertain. But he seemed nervous and genuinely uncertain of himself. Mr. Granger could only come to the conclusion that his opinion was important to this man. He came to the conclusion that the man actually cared for his daughter. "Well," he finally said. "I suppose Hermione is right. She is an adult, perfectly capable of making her own decisions. Just be warned… if you hurt her, I will have less reservations about killing a man my own age than I would about killing a kid Hermione's age."

Snape nodded. "I understand, sir." He wasn't particularly fond of calling people _sir_ when they weren't above him in rank, but he figured politeness always paid off.

"Now," Mr. Granger said, "Since I was so rude at the station, do tell me. What is your name?"

"Severus," he answered, aware that it was unlikely Mr. Granger would ever hear his daughter call him that. "Severus Snape."

"Right then, Severus," Mr. Granger said. "You can call me Jack. My wife's name is Olivia, since we didn't get around to proper introductions. Now let's go inside, shall we, so the two of them don't have too much time to gossip about us?"

Snape nodded, both astounded and relieved that Hermione appeared to have been right; her father's initial reaction had been due more to shock than to an actual dislike.

As this conversation took place a more heated conversation was taking place inside the house. "What could you be thinking, Hermione? He's twice your age. Are these just misplaced feelings from what happened with Ron?"

"No, Mum. This is not just a joke. Our feelings are real." Hermione's voice was exasperated. She had been expecting this from her father, but not from her mother.

"Do you really know that, Hermione?" the older woman asked her daughter. "Can you be sure he's not just using you?"

"What would he be using me for, Mum?" she demanded.

"What do you think, Hermione?" her mother asked.

Hermione put her foot down there. "Mother, don't. Just don't. I love him, okay? I don't care what anyone else thinks. And if you and Dad are going to be like this for the entire holidays, I'm going to leave. Sorry, but that's how it is." She stormed out of the room, picking her trunk up from the front hall and stomping up the stairs to the bedroom that still had her name on the door.

Snape and Mr. Granger entered the room to find Mrs. Granger looking flustered and angry. "Olivia, darling, what's wrong?" Mr. Granger asked his wife.

"Just…" She took a deep breath, saw how calm the two men looked, and decided she had been wrong. If her husband could take this this well, she could handle it. "Nothing. I just got in a fight with Hermione, is all."

Snape frowned to himself, suspecting it had been about him. What else could have caused a fight so soon after arriving home? "Where is she?" he questioned.

Hermione's mother grimaced then answered, "Up the stairs, second door on the left."

He nodded and followed Hermione to the small bedroom she had grown up in. He knocked on the door. "Go away, Mother," she snapped. "This conversation is over. I may be willing to compromise on many things, but this is not one of them."

"Miss Granger," he said softly. "I'm not your mother, although I would be very interested to know what you're not willing to compromise on."

"Oh," she said. "You can come in, Professor."

He opened the door to a very small, very neat, very _pink_ bedroom. He stopped in his tracks. "I was not aware you liked the color pink so much, Miss Granger."

"I was nine. And by the time I realized how much I hated it, I was spending most of every year at Hogwarts, so it wasn't worth the money, time or trouble to repaint it," she answered.

"Miss Granger," he sighed. "Are you a witch or not?"

She looked up startled, a lock of hair falling into her eyes. Then she began laughing. "I guess… I guess it just never occurred to me to change the color of the paint." She pulled out her wand, waved it once and the walls were instantly changed to a nice, forest-y green. "That's better."

He sat down on the bed next to her. "What happened between you and your mother, Miss Granger?"

"Oh, it was nothing, Professor," she answered.

He immediately knew it was a lie. "It was far from nothing, Miss Granger, if you are not willing to compromise."

She took a deep breath and muttered, "She fears you are just using me, Professor."

His brow furrowed. It troubled him that he was the cause of problems within her family. "Miss Granger… perhaps I should leave. I do not want to ruin your holiday with your family."

She shook her head furiously. "No, Professor. I want you here. And if they can't accept that… well, Mum's the one who wanted you to come home with me. It is not my fault you are not what she expected. It's not your fault you are not what she may have wanted."

He nodded, half disappointed that she wasn't willing to let him leave. "Shall we go downstairs, then, Miss Granger? Your parents will be waiting."

She smiled, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and pulled him down the stairs.

Mrs. Granger saw immediately the change in her daughter. It normally took Hermione far longer than this to cool down once she got that angry. But this man… he had somehow calmed her in a matter of minutes. Olivia Granger's attitude was immediately altered and she welcomed Snape warmly and sincerely. "I'm so glad you could make it," she said happily. "I'm Olivia. What would you have me call you?"

He nodded his greeting, showing none of the confusion he felt at the Molly Weasley-ish greeting. "Severus Snape, ma'am."

Hermione's mother froze, immediately recognizing the name. This was the name her daughter had drawn all over her school papers, sometimes encircling the letters in hearts. Perhaps her daughter was more right than even she knew, when she said her feelings were not misplaced. Mrs. Granger smiled. "You are a teacher at the school too, no?"

"Yes, Mrs. Granger," Snape answered coolly. "I have been a teacher there for many years." He had come to the conclusion that it was no use dancing around the fact that his age made everyone present uncomfortable. Hermione being the exception.

"Please," she said, "Call me Olivia." Jack nodded his encouragement, unaware that Snape didn't wish to call Hermione's parents by their first names when he still couldn't manage to call Hermione by hers. When he didn't reply and an awkward silence ensued, Mrs. Granger decided to fill it with, "Hermione! Why don't you show Severus where he should put his bags? The guest room is all cleaned up!"

Hermione nodded. "Thanks, Mum." She led Snape to the room that was just across the hall from hers. "See, Professor?" she asked him. "It won't be that bad."

"Yes," he agreed. "In fact, it will probably be the best Christmas I've had in many, many years."

Hermione looked away as her face heated up. "Why is that, Professor?"

"Because I am not alone," he mused. Then he added, knowing it would likely embarrass her further, but knowing it was also the truth, "Because I have a beautiful woman keeping me company who was threatening to leave if her parents didn't treat me with some hospitality." Sure enough, Hermione's face turned a darker shade of red. He lifted her chin to look at him. "You're cute when you are embarrassed, Miss Granger," Snape noted.

"Am I, Professor?" she asked.

"Yes." He kissed her, then asked, "Shall we return? We do not want your parents to get the wrong idea."

She bit her lip to keep from laughing, but she nodded.

As the next few days passed, Hermione's parents grew more and more used to the strange relationship their daughter was in. They couldn't quite grasp why she always called him 'Professor' and why he always called her 'Miss Granger,' but they decided it wasn't their place. Severus Snape obviously made their daughter happy; more happy, in fact, than Viktor Krum or Ronald Weasley ever had.

On Christmas Eve, Mr. Granger had vanished, presumably to do some last-minute shopping. Hermione and her mother were repeatedly pushing Snape from the kitchen, insisting that he was only in the way. Finally, the doorbell rang. "Go answer, that, Professor, will you?" Hermione requested, thrilled at a reason to get Snape out of the kitchen, if only for a minute.

He nodded and went to the door. When he opened it, Harry and Ginny Potter stood before him. The three of them stared for several minutes, nothing but shock crossing the space between them. Then Snape shut the door.

"Who was that, Professor?" Hermione called as Snape walked back toward the kitchen.

"No one, Miss Granger."

She looked at him suspiciously, then said, "Professor, please go let Harry and Ginny in. It's cold outside."

He grimaced, but did as she asked, allowing Ginny and Harry inside. They were astounded. Partially because Snape was supposed to be dead, more because he was _in Hermione's house_. Ginny got over her shock first, and she vanished into the kitchen with Hermione and Mrs. Granger, leaving Harry and Snape alone.

Nothing was said for a very long time. Finally, Harry said, "You're… you're alive. I suppose you'll be wanting these back then?" He pulled a small vial from beneath his cloak. Snape's shining memories.

Snape shook his head. "I… I have plenty like whichever ones I gave you. And it is already quite complicated. I do not need to complicate my feelings further with more memories of Lily." He paused then added, "Although I do wonder at your carrying them around with you."

Harry grinned. "Only on special occasions. Somehow, they make me feel closer to my mother."

"I see."

In the kitchen, Ginny had pulled Hermione off to the side. "What is Snape doing here?" she demanded in a low voice. "And you said your boyfriend was going to be here. Where is _he_?" Hermione just stared at her, waiting for her to put two and two together. It didn't take long. "_Snape_?" Ginny gasped. "But he's—Snape is—he's—_Snape_?"

"Yes, Ginny. I am dating Professor Snape," Hermione said. "Are you happy now?"

Ginny shook her head. "Hardly." She grabbed Hermione's hand and dragged the other woman up the stairs to the now-green room. "I need details, Hermione," she said when they got there. "Details."

"Like what?" Hermione asked. "Like how he's still alive?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Do you think I care about how he's still alive? I want to know how the two of you ended up _together_. And why you didn't tell me!"

Hermione sighed, but a small smile touched her lips. "We haven't really _told_ anyone." Before Ginny could ask, Hermione went on, "McGonagall knows, of course, but that's just because everyone knows everything at Hogwarts."

"So how'd it happen?" Ginny asked yet again, leaning forward eagerly.

Hermione hesitated then said, "At first it was just that we always seemed to end up sitting next to each other at meals. Then he invited me to get a drink at the Three Broomsticks. When he walked me back to my room afterwards…" Hermione trailed off, thinking of that first kiss.

Ginny, on the other hand, looked entirely horrified. "You got _drunk_, and that's what started this? Oh my god, do _not_ tell me you're pregnant."

"No!" Hermione said loudly. "We didn't drink anything other than butterbeer that night. It was just a goodnight kiss, Ginny. Entirely unexpected. And then… it just kind of moved on from there. And when I said I was seeing someone, Mum insisted I bring him home for Christmas."

Upon hearing that Hermione wasn't pregnant, Ginny looked more than a little relieved. "You're still not telling me the details, Hermione," Ginny said. "You're just giving me a basic plotline. How can a girl live on that?"

Hermione grinned and asked, "What do you want to know?"

"Everything," Ginny said. "Why he kissed you. Why you _let_ him kiss you. Everything that happened after that. When it really started, because I know it didn't start with that kiss." Ginny heard someone coming up the stairs and suspecting it was Snape, added, "And most importantly, is he a good kisser?" She felt slightly nauseated at the thought of kissing her old Professor, but if that was what Hermione liked, she might as well get a laugh out of it.

"Which one first?" Hermione asked.

"The last," Ginny answered immediately, warning Snape to be quiet as he approached the door. He stopped, an expression of slight curiosity on his face.

Hermione sighed, but it was somewhere between exasperation at Ginny's questions and happiness at the thought of Snape. Unaware that Snape was in the doorway behind her, she said, "Yes, Ginny, he is a good kisser. A _very_ good kisser." Seeing Ginny's look of faint disgust, Hermione went on, "And in spite of what it looks like when he's drowning in those black robes of his, he is not unattractive at all when he's wearing clothing that actually fits."

Snape, his shock at being called a _very good kisser_ having worn off, walked up behind her silently, and whispered in her ear, "Am I now, Miss Granger?"

* * *

><p>Still own no one... here's the reviews...<p>

dadswell: thanks. :)

Hermionefan21: Haha. Agreed. But Hermione's not talking to Alan Rickman, she's talking to Snape... as I'm writing this, I'm only hearing Alan Rickman's voice about fifty percent of the time.

notwritten: thanks. :)

animegrlsteph: he took it well, don't you think?


	9. Chapter 9

"Severus!" Hermione gasped. She spun around to meet his black eyes, which were questioning. Her face reddened. "What did you hear?"

"I heard Miss Weasley ask if I was a good kisser," Snape replied. Hermione's blush deepened as she grew more and more aware of just how much he had heard. He simply smiled and asked, "Are you going to answer my question?"

Ginny made a face, seeing that what was coming was something she could live without seeing. "You need me, I'll be downstairs."

Snape and Hermione ignored her. "What question, Severus?" she asked, finally giving into her desire to call him by his first name. It had been a long time since she had stopped thinking of him as 'Professor.' But she was stubborn. She wanted him to stop calling her 'Miss Granger' before she began calling him Severus.

"Do you really think," he whispered, flicking his wand so that the door closed quietly. "That I am a good kisser? And that beneath all this black fabric I am attractive?" She didn't answer, even as he sat down next to her and took her hand. The only indication that she heard was that the blush that had been fading returned full force. "Hermione?" he asked when he saw she wasn't going to answer. "Why did you call me Severus?"

"Because I don't like calling you Professor." She turned her face away.

"Then why do you?"

"Because you insist on calling me Miss Granger."

Snape reached out and turned her face toward him. "Only because you insist on calling me Professor. I have wanted to call you Hermione since this relationship began."

She stared at him and saw the sincerity in his eyes. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yes." He kissed her lips gently. "Hermione."

"Thank you, Severus." Then she admitted to something she had feared since they had arrived, since her argument with her mother. She pulled away and turned her back on him. "I hate… I don't want…"

"You hate what, Hermione?" Snape asked, trying to get her to turn around. "You don't want what?"

"I hate not to trust you. It makes me feel like a terrible person. But… ever since we came home… what do you see in me? Are you just… are you just using me? Or…"

Snape stared at her. "Are you genuinely worried that I'm just using you, Hermione?"

"No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know."

Snape sighed. "I see a smart beautiful woman. I see a powerful witch, but in spite of her skills, she is nothing more than a teacher. I see a woman who has far less confidence in herself than she should." Snape finally got her to turn around. He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I see a woman who is settling for far less than she deserves."

"Less than she deserves?"

Snape tried to smile, but failed. "I am not a foolish man, Hermione. I know that you are smart. I know you are talented. I know you are beautiful. I know that I am not the only man who could make you happy. I know there are many men out there who are likely far better looking and who make more money. I know that there is no reason you should be happy with me. What I do not know is why you are worried about me using you. I do not know why someone like you would be happy with someone like me." As he spoke, silent tears began rolling down Hermione's cheeks. He wiped them away one by one. "I do not know why you are crying. I do know that I would do anything in the world to make you stop."

She sniffled then said, "You promise?" He nodded. Then she wrapped her arms around him and said, "I don't want anything more, Severus." She kissed him, and he kissed her back. Both Hermione and Snape were acutely aware that they were on her bed. Hermione pulled Snape's shirt over his head, and he unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. Both of them were beginning to live out a fantasy they had held since the beginning of the semester, touching each other uncertainly.

But before things could go any farther, the door was flung open, revealing Harry. A choking noise came from both Harry and Snape as Snape scrambled to pull his hands off of Hermione. Harry's face had paled to the point where he could have competed with Snape for lack of color. Except for the fact that he would have won, because Snape's face was touched by a very slight amount of color.

Hermione refused to look at either of them.

"Detention, Potter," Snape snapped, saying the first thing that came to mind. "Fifty points from Gryffindor."

Harry widened his eyes, shook his head in disbelief and said, "Olivia says dinner is ready. But I'm thinking you two aren't hungry like that at the moment. Come to that, I'm not exactly hungry any more. Next time, lock the door." And he left, more disturbed than he ever thought it was possible to be.

Hermione sat up, zipped and buttoned her pants and said, "Shall we go to dinner then?"

Snape's pale lips curved upward in the smile he saved for her. "I think so," he answered, pulling his shirt back on.

They went back down the stairs, holding hands. They sat down to eat, neither of them saying a word. True to his word, Harry didn't eat much. Both he and Ginny kept shooting them disapproving glances. Hermione's parents were still trying to figure out what was going on between their daughter and Severus Snape.

Dinner was civil, but awkward. Finally Jack cleared his throat and said, "Well, this was a very nice dinner, Olivia dear. Hermione and Ginny, thanks for your help too. But I think I'm about ready to hit the sack." Then he froze and did a quick head count. He looked at his wife. "Where is everyone sleeping?"

Olivia frowned. "Well… I assume… I don't know." She looked at a loss.

Hermione stepped in. "Ginny and Harry can take the guest room. Severus can sleep in my room. I'll spend the night on the couch."

Her parents nodded in agreement, happy with the arrangement. But Snape was not. "No. I will take the couch. I will not have you uncomfortable on my account."

"You are my guest," Hermione replied. "You will take the bed, I will take the couch. End of story. I won't hear anything more on the subject."

"What happened to being able to compromise?" Snape asked. "I want you to be comfortable."

Before Hermione could argue back, Ginny suggested, "You could both take the bed."

Harry choked on his glass of water, Mr. and Mrs. Granger both whipped their heads around to stare and Ginny, and Hermione and Snape watched each other. Ginny just grinned at the stunned looks on the faces of Hermione's parents. Neither Snape nor Hermione had any visible reaction, but they were both thinking about the fact that they had already spent the night together once. Harry continued choking.

"But… but…" Olivia stuttered.

"_No_," Jack answered. "Absolutely _not_."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Relax. It's not like they weren't already almost there earlier this afternoon."

Hermione's face verified Ginny's accusation as did Harry's muttering, "Don't remind me."

"And why would they do anything with you in the next room?"

Olivia took a deep breath then said, "Fine. You're an adult, Hermione. I can't control what you do any longer. I'm not stupid. I know what went on when you moved in with Ron. I know what's likely happening between you and Severus up at the school. This is your decision."

"Mother!" Hermione objected to her mother's obvious meaning at the same time her father objected, "Olivia!" to her agreeing with Ginny.

"Oh, Jack," Hermione's mother said. "Who are we kidding? She's not a little girl anymore, and we need to admit that."

"Mother!" Hermione said again. Olivia looked at her, and she looked significantly at Snape.

Her mother took a deep breath and said, "Jack, let's continue this conversation upstairs."

He frowned, but he followed his wife from the room. Hermione smiled, relieved. "Okay, now that they've disappeared to talk about _my_ sex life, shall we clean up from dinner?" Then she turned to Snape and said, "So I guess it's up to you. You can take the bed, or you can share the bed. I'm not sleeping in my bed alone and letting you sleep on the couch, so don't even suggest it."

Snape frowned. "What about your father?" He waved his wand and several pans flew through the air, settling themselves in the sink.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "In twenty two years, I think I have seen my father win less than ten arguments with my mother. And she let him win those, because she was manipulating him to get what she really wanted."

"Should I be worried that this manipulative behavior might be genetic?" Snape asked as Hermione began washing the dishes by hand.

Hermione smiled. "Perhaps. So? Are you going to sleep alone in my bed or do you want my company?"

He looked at her and did something Harry had never seen before. He smiled. Actually smiled. "What do you think I would prefer, Hermione?"

She looked at him, trying to figure out what kind of game he was playing. Then she said the last thing Harry and Ginny needed to hear. "I hope you prefer the latter."

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><p>Well, there's that chapter. I still own… no one. Big surprise there.<p>

Thanks to… animegrlsteph, LilacGrace444, notwritten, and cjnicole for their reviews. Love you all! :)


	10. Chapter 10

It was an awkward night for everyone. Most of them had trouble forgetting that Snape and Hermione were sleeping in the same room, in the same bed. Snape had trouble forgetting the fact that everyone else _knew_ they were sleeping in the same bed. So it remained that Hermione, nestled in Snape's arms, was the only one who _didn't_ feel awkward. Like she had told him before, she had given up on caring what everyone else thought. Having him hold her made her happy; nothing mattered beyond that.

When they woke in the morning, it was Ginny dragging them all out of bed. "We need to get this show on the road," she said. "I love you all, but I have Christmas with my family too."

"You love Snape?" Harry asked skeptically as he rubbed his eyes and plodded down the stairs.

Ginny rolled her eyes and hit her husband's shoulder. "Sure. I love him for Hermione's sake. I love Hermione, and Hermione loves him. So, sure, I love Snape too."

They sat down around the tree and passed around the presents. Snape was surprised to learn that he had not one, but two. Hermione's parents had gotten him something as well. But Hermione and Snape didn't really pay much attention to any of the gifts until it came time for them to open the presents for each other.

Snape carefully tore the snowflake paper away to find a variety of scarves, gloves and hats, all knitted. Not a single one was his favorite color. "None of these are black," he stated.

Hermione grinned. "As good as you look in black, I think your wardrobe could use _some_ color. So I chose darker colors. Baby steps, you know?" Ginny stifled a laugh at the look on Snape's face.

Snape rolled his eyes and said, "Open yours."

She opened it to find a watch. "It's beautiful," she whispered. "Just… why a watch?"

Snape gave her half a smile. "You don't have one. You don't even have a _clock_. You're always losing track of time. I thought a watch would be… useful."

Hermione began to color, and managed to say, "I have a phenomenal grasp of how much time has passed, thank you very much. I have ever since my third year. It is _your_ fault I'm always running late these days."

"Is it now?" he asked.

"Yes," she insisted. "I'm always distracted."

_Later (beginning of the semester)…_

Having Apparated back to Hogsmeade rather than deal with the train, Hermione and Snape found the grounds covered in snow. "It's beautiful, don't you think?" she asked him.

"Very."

"Severus, you're not even looking at the grounds. You're looking at me."

"I'm quite aware."

Without warning, Hermione fell backward into the snow, pulling Snape down with her since they were holding hands. They lay there for a moment before he asked, "What are we doing, Hermione?"

She smiled to herself and began moving her legs back and forth. "Making snow angels, Severus."

He frowned, such childish activities having been stricken from his behavior long ago. But he knew it would make her happy. So he made a snow angel right next to hers. Then he stood up and held his hand out. She took it out and he pulled her up. They looked down at the figures in the snow, unaware that the students out in the slush had stopped their snowball fights to stare.

Professor Snape had willingly gotten down in the snow and made a _snow angel_.

His next action, however, was even less expected than that. He bent down, picked up a handful of snow and threw it at Hermione. It hit her shoulder and her eyes grew wide. "You're going to pay for that," she threatened.

They threw snowballs back and forth all the way up to the castle doors. When they reached the entrance hall, they were both soaking wet, and word had spread to the students inside that Professors Snape and Granger were having a snowball fight.

They ignored the onlookers when they entered the building, and they reluctantly parted ways at the stairs, content to know that they had dinner to look forward to that night.

And there was something lurking in the back of Snape's heart, something his mind didn't even know he was planning.

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><p>All I have to say is sorry it's been so long, sorry it's so short and it's so short because giving you a longer chapter would have meant even more waiting time. Hopefully I'll find my inspiration for this story again soon and you'll get longer chapters and more frequent updates.<p>

Now, on to the reviews I don't really deserve...

Dopplegranger: sorry it's been so long. forgive me? please?

animegrlsteph: yup. :)

NickelRamaMetalHydride: haha, thanks. I'm glad you approve.

notwritten: as always, thanks for the review.

dadswell: I'm glad you're still enjoying it. Sorry it's been so long since I posted.


	11. Chapter 11

_So, I'd like to apologize for the lack of update (again) and the shortness of the chapter (again). Also, this is the last chapter. I sat down to write it and I realized... their relationship had plateaued. There were only two things left to address, neither of which I wanted to spend a lot of time on. So this is the end. I apologize that it's so abrupt. It wasn't supposed to be that way. :( Please forgive me.-KG64_

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><p>So the weeks passed, with Hermione and Snape a couple that the entire school knew about. A couple the school had grown bored gossiping about. The only way their relationship affected the students was that both the Transfiguration professor and Potions Master were far more amiable than ever before. Some of the more fashion-oriented students noticed Snape's slightly more colorful wardrobe and Hermione's new watch. But very few people made the connection.<p>

The semester faded from winter to spring, and then from spring to summer. The two professors were happy together, but there was still something bothering Snape. He loved Hermione. He loved her more than anything else in the world. He just wasn't sure she knew that.

And he still wasn't entirely convinced she loved him as much as she claimed.

For her part, Hermione knew how much she loved him and she trusted him with all her heart. And she believed him when he whispered the words, 'I love you, Hermione,' just before bed each night.

So it was one night after Hermione had gone to bed that Snape sat alone in his office, looking at a small band of cold in a velvet covered case. Then he snapped it shut. He knew what he had to do.

The next morning, a Saturday, Snape left the castle. He told both Hermione and McGonagall that he had some urgent business to attend to. He walked to Hogsmeade and, from there, Apparated to the home of Mr. and Mrs. Jack Granger.

Both Olivia and Jack were surprised to see him. "Severus, dear, do come in," Olivia encouraged him. "But where is Hermione?"

"She is still at Hogwarts," Snape said quietly. "Is Mr. Granger home? I'd like a word with him."

"Yes, of course," Olivia said, running to the stairs. "Jack, honey. Severus is here. He wants to speak with you."

"Okay, okay, I'm coming."

It wasn't long before he trudged down the stairs, looking as though he had just woken up. "Yes, Severus?" he asked.

Snape sighed. He hadn't the slightest clue what he was doing and very little reasoning for the why. He only knew that, in his heart, it felt right. "Mr. Granger, I—"

"Please, Severus, call me Jack."

"Mr. Granger," he repeated firmly. "I've come to ask your permission to marry your daughter."

A glass crashed in the kitchen, where Olivia Granger had obviously been listening in. Jack Granger also appeared to be in a slight state of shock. Finally he managed, "Are you serious?"

"Yes, sir."

Jack shook his head as though to clear away the surprise. Then he said, "I guess I'm surprised because some part of me still thought you were just using her. I was not expecting this." Snape waited. Mr. Granger smiled. "Yes, Severus. You make my daughter happy, which makes _me_ happy. Therefore, I have one favor to ask of you."

"And that would be?" Snape asked, refusing to agree before he knew what the favor was.

"Don't tell Hermione you asked my permission. She would be mad at the both of us if she found out." Snape nodded and Jack grinned. "Very well. I would also like to remind you that, as nice as it makes _me_ feel to have you ask, I could hardly keep Hermione from doing what she wanted as far as you're concerned. As both my wife and my daughter have reminded me multiple times, Hermione is an adult and she is perfectly capable of making her own decisions."

Snape nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Granger. I best head back then. I told Hermione I had some important business to attend to, but that it wouldn't take long."

Jack Granger nodded, shook Snape's hand and Snape left.

Snape agonized over how to ask her. He agonized for several weeks. And then exams were upon them and he still didn't have a clue. And he could see the school year drawing to a close. It was a few days before the end of term that he finally decided.

By this point, Hermione had noticed his odd behavior. And she feared that he wanted to break things off with her. She knew that wasn't true, but she couldn't help wondering.

And then the last day of term, Snape went down to the kitchens. The elves swarmed around him, offering different foods and treats. He waved them all away. When he opened his mouth to speak, the room grew quiet, the only wizard commanding their attention. "I would like to send something to Professor Granger this evening at the End of Term feast," he stated. "I need you to listen to my instructions very carefully." Bright eyes were wide as they listened to his instructions.

That evening at dinner, Snape was fidgeting. And that only made Hermione nervous. McGonagall stood and said, "We have come to the end of another year. I look forward to seeing many of you back here next year, and I congratulate those of you who will be moving on to bigger and better things." There was a slight smattering of applause for the seventh years and then McGonagall continued. "Please remember as you leave here what you have learned and how important it is that you not do magic over the summer. Let the feast begin."

The plates filled and they all helped themselves to various puddings and pies. Hermione and Snape didn't say a single word to each other. He was traumatized by the thought of how she might respond. She didn't want to say anything because she feared it might spur the conversation in which he would break up with her.

And then their plates were wiped clean.

The deserts were sent up.

And rather than having a still-empty plate, there was a velvet black box, opened to reveal a ring set with a small diamond on Hermione's plate.

She stared at it.

And then everyone at the staff table stared at _her_ as she threw her arms around the Potions Master, crying, "Oh, Severus!"

"I'll take that as a yes," he murmured. "I love you, Miss Granger."

"What happened to calling me Hermione?" she asked.

"I thought I'd call you Miss Granger while I still can," he replied.

She laughed and kissed him. "I love you, Severus. So much."

The wedding was planned quickly and was very small, with only their closest friends and family present. And then the new semester began, where all the students were confused because there were now _two_ Professor Snapes and the new students were confused as to why all the older students complained about both of them.

And the confusion of having two professors with the same last name did not dwindle over the course of the year. It was nearly time for end of year exams when Professor McGonagall pulled a second year aside, handed him an envelope and told him, "Take this to Professor Snape, Walters."

He turned and took some steps away from the headmistress before turning around and asking, "Which Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall?"

McGonagall sighed. "Please think for a moment, Walters, and then go give it to the Professor Snape who _isn't_ gone on maternity leave."

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><p>orihah14: Thanks for the review. I'm glad to hear you think so highly of my story. :)<p>

notwritten: Thanks for following the story from the beginning. Keep smiling to you too. :)

Kayleigh-FanfictionAddict-21: Thanks for the review and here's your update!

megumisakura: Thanks for the review!

Reader: Thanks for the review! I'm really into foreign languages so it really excites me to have a reader whose first language isn't English. You made my day! (I don't know any Korean! Sorry!)

Thanks to all of you who reviewed at one point or another, I love you all.

This story is, as always, dedicated to Kelsie (love you! Sorry it's over), with a shout-out to Kate! Hope you enjoyed it!

Kiyoshi'sGirl64


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